


Demons We Run

by marsellia_rose



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008), Gotham (TV), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Gen, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental house AU, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Other, Tumblr Prompt, arkham asylum au, fake!batman au, no one is what they seem, not a nice story but maybe a nice ending?, reversed roles, who is really the villian here??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsellia_rose/pseuds/marsellia_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is not the Batman. The Batman does not exist. He is an imagined character- a delusion of sorts.<br/>Bruce Wayne is a patient at Arkham Asylum, the best mental facility in the area. "Batman" is just a delusion he has to cope with his abduction by the delusional terrorist Ra's al-Ghul. It's Dick Grayson who visits him and makes sure his company is handled properly.<br/>But not everything is as it seems at Arkham Asylum. Bruce's own doctor Jonathan Crane seems to never quite have a handle on what's happening, and there seems to be something off about head doctors Jack Napier and Harleen Quinzel. Dick's never quite sure who to believe, which Bruce ambling on about villians and people trying to kill him and Napier assuring him that Bruce is getting the best possible care, even with Bruce seemingly getting worse and worse and Crane seeming more and more unsure of his employers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Therein Lies a Hospital

Dick Greyson knew that no matter how bad things got, the only people that were to blame were already dead. Bruce was not to blame for any of this mess.

Bruce Wayne had been abducted by the terrorist Ra’s al-Ghul when he was 30. Dick Greyson, his adopted son, had been 17 at the time, and had been living with Bruce for 5 years. 

The terrorist organization known only as The League kept Bruce for 1 year and 6 months. They had tortured him for the sake of torture. When he finally made it back home, he was a changed man. To cope with what had happened to him, had made an alter ego known as The Batman- a crime fighting vigilante who trained to defend Gotham from its enemies. 

He wasn’t okay in the head. And so Dick, along with Alfred and Lucius Fox- both of whom had helped him over the past year- helped him get Bruce set up at Arkham Asylum. They thought it would help him. Arkham was supposed to be the best mental hospital in the area.

But Bruce didn’t get better.

He got worse. 

Now he had villains to fight. The doctors, nurses, and orderlies all became villains in his imagined story, with Dick becoming his sidekick “Robin”- a nickname from an inside joke between them. Bruce imagined that he was fighting for the safety of Gotham against these horrifying villains. 

Bruce’s main doctor at the hospital was Dr. Jonathan Crane, a skinny, awkward man who could only have been a few years older than Dick himself and seemed perpetually nervous. He said that he thought he could help Bruce, if only Bruce would want to be helped. Sometimes Bruce was cooperative, and seemed to understand what he was saying, and sometimes Bruce screamed about the Scarecrow and lashed out if Crane tried to get anywhere near him. Dick had proof of that. The bruises on his face had been rather convincing. 

Of course, Crane wasn’t the doctor he was uneasy with. That would be the head doctor at the facility, Dr. Jack Napier. With messy dark hair and a perpetually wild look in his eyes, as well as a set of scars on his cheeks (from being attacked by a less than coherent patient, according to Napier) there was something about that doctor that set Dick on edge. And his assistant, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, was no better, with her too-high pitched laugh and her dark makeup. 

But the facility was ranked best in the surrounding four states, and nothing too bad ever seemed to happen, so Dick left Bruce at Arkham.

Visitation to Arkham was twice a month, on the first Tuesday and last Tuesday. When Dick had first committed Bruce, he’d questioned why visitation was so sparse, but Napier had explained to him that visitation needed to be farther apart to lessen Bruce’s dependency, and that seemed to make sense. Today was the last Tuesday of the month, which meant taking time off of helping run Wayne Enterprises and driving out to Arkham. 

Arkham was not a bad place. There was nothing terrible about the exterior. It was the location that Dick had to question. It was located in the Narrows, which had to be one of the worst neighborhoods in Gotham. But as Crane had explained during one of their many consultations, rent was not especially cheap anywhere else in Gotham, and while they were by no means a poor facility, their money had to go to paying doctors and buying equipment, not paying rent. 

That being said, Dick still hated having to drive through the Narrows to the fenced in parking that surrounded Arkham. Once parked- his “family” permit clearly displayed on his dashboard- he made his way in to the stark white building. Smiling at the secretary- the very lovely Barbara Gordon- he made his way up the stairs to where he knew Crane would be waiting. 

“Dr. Crane.” Dick nodded at the man, who was standing by the doorway at the top of the stairwell. “How’s Bruce doing?”

Jonathan Crane sighed, running a hand through his hair. Today was really not a good day. “Not…the greatest. We’re going through a rough patch.” He looked at Dick regretfully. “Probably not the best visit today.” 

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll get through it.” He nodded at the door. “Should we..?”

“Oh. Yes.” Crane unlocked the door, leading Dick into the meeting room. A large, cafeteria style room filled with tables and chairs, with white tile floors and white plaster walls greeted them. Everything was very sterile and clinical feeling. “If you’ll just have a seat, I can go get Bruce?”

Dick nodded, pulling out a chair and sitting down at a nearby table. There were a few patients sitting a couple tables over with their visitors. He didn’t pay the, any mind. Eventually Dr. Crane came out with Bruce. They were accompanied by a tall, broad, red haired woman- Pamela, his brain supplied. She was a nurse. She was nice- she brought plants to Arkham to try and brighten the place up. Bruce said her name was Poison Ivy, and that she only cared about her plants, and that she and her plants were gonna take over the world. 

Bruce didn’t look good. His hair was sticking up everywhere, his clothes were rumpled, and he looked like he hadn’t slept at all since Dick last saw him.

“Here you go, Bruce.” Dr. Crane led him to the seat next to Dick, smiling at him. Bruce mumbled something in response. It didn’t sound especially nice.

“Bruce.” Dick’s tone of voice left no room for argument, and Bruce sat down. “Thank you, doctor, nurse.” He nodded at both of them. 

“They’re trying to kill me.” Bruce leaned it, talking in hushed tones. “The Joker and Harley Quinn. Two-Face is conspiring with them.” 

“Bruce…” Dick sighed. On good days, they talked about Alfred and the company. On bad days, Bruce couldn’t focus on anything other than the Batman.

“I’ve heard them whispering.” Bruce gestured his arms, revealing a nasty set of bruises along both wrists. Dick caught his hand, sliding his sleeve up to reveal that they went up to his forearm. 

“Bruce, what happened to your arms?” Dick frowned, looking over the bruises. They were unusual looking- not like bruises from someone who struggled against people restraining them.

“They’re trying to kill me.” Bruce stared into Dick’s eyes, and if it wasn’t completely insane Dick might’ve even believed him. “We need to get out of here, Robin.” Bruce’s eyes betrayed no lie, no whisper of insanity. 

“Bruce.” He took both of Bruce’s hands in his, forcing the older man to look at him. “Bruce. Is someone hurting you?” He stared into Bruce’s eyes, willing him to respond with something he could use.

It didn’t work. “Two-Face didn’t like me interrupting his play time with Catwoman, but she was crying and she’s always so nice.” 

Dick had no idea who Two-Face was. Or Catwoman. He was pretty sure the Joker and Harley Quinn were supposed to be Jack Napier and Harleen Quinzel, because they were the ones in charge. He was also pretty sure that most of the things Bruce said when he was “Batman” were a bunch of bull. “Alright, Bruce. I’m going to go talk to Dr. Crane, okay?”

“The Scarecrow cannot be trusted.” Bruce parroted back at him blandly. Dick sighed again. He did that a lot when he was here. 

“Why can’t the Scarecrow be trusted?”

“Because he belongs to the Joker. He has been owned.” Dick had absolutely no idea what that meant, but it made him shiver all the same.

“Whatever you say, Bruce.” Sighed, Dick walking over to where Dr. Crane was waiting for him.

“Bruce has a weird set of bruises on his arm.” Dick absolutely did not believe in bullshit small talk when it came to Arkham. “I know people gets bruises all the time when they resist treatment, but these…were different looking.”

“I will look in to it.” Crane replied smoothly, a frowning forming on his face. “Did he mention anything about it?”

“He said that “Two-Face” did it.” Dick let out a heavy breath. “If you can make any sense of that go right ahead.” 

“I am attempting to compile of list of all the employees here and match them to their “Batman” counterparts, so I’ll see what I can do.” Crane nodded. “Two-Face…he’s said that name before.”

“He also mentioned a Catwoman?” Dick added.

“Catwoman…that one’s new.” Crane rolled the name on his tongue. “Catwoman. I’ll call you if anything new develops. Are you heading out?”

“Yes.” Dick ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you next month.” Crane nodded.

Walking out of Arkham, Dick felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as he felt someone watching him. However, when he turned, there was no one there.


	2. And the Roses Lay Above the Rot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pamela Isley absolutely did not like her job. It had nothing to do with what she did- she liked helping people- or even the location- she grew up in the Narrows, it didn’t bother her. No, what bothered her were her coworkers.

Pamela Isley absolutely did not like her job. It had nothing to do with what she did- she liked helping people- or even the location- she grew up in the Narrows, it didn’t bother her. No, what bothered her were her coworkers. Dent was an asshole with anger management issues, Cobblepot was a creep who never stopped staring- not just at her, but at _everything_ \- Tetch was always trying to use his creepy “hypno-treatments” on her, Nigma gave her a headache, and Napier made her far more uncomfortable than any of the patients. His assistant, Dr. Harleen Quinzel- Harley- was sweet- they were even friends- but she was far too caught up in Jack- “Mistah J”- for Pamela’s tastes. And the other doctor, Crane, was one push away from a nervous breakdown, complete with neurotic tendencies, nervous twitches, and a perpetually jumpy attitude.

He also seemed to have constant problems with his patients turning violent- something she found strange, given how non-violent most of the patients normally were. But the bruises that generally littered his skin were testament to _something_.

It didn’t matter. She figured it was none of her business what happened, so why should she investigate? It seemed like it would be more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, she had bigger problems to worry about. She spent most of her time at the hospital, and it wasn’t because she enjoyed it. She needed the money.

Though she did care about the patients. Especially Bruce. He was just so…sad. And afraid. He always seemed afraid whenever she took him to his sessions with Napier. Which was another concerning thing, because while he always seemed afraid _before_ his sessions with Napier, he seemed downright _insane_ after. And..well…she wasn’t sure that Bruce was _really_ insane. But that was just her own musing.

She tried to brighten up his room with plants one time, but he freaked out. He called her Poison Ivy, and said she was trying to take over the world with her plants. When she tried to placate him, he became unreachable.

The others might not remember, but Pamela knew that when Bruce had first come here he wasn’t this way- he wasn’t this bad.

He’d gotten worse since he came here, and she knew it. It might just have been the institute itself- she knew that a change this bad could occasionally cause patients to get worse before they got better, but…he’d been here so long, and he only seemed to get worse and worse.

His visitor, the young heir Dick Greyson, didn’t notice, but she knew that wasn’t his fault. That was why they only had visitation twice a month- so that the visitors wouldn’t attempt to micromanage their family member’s progress.

But even she knew that this might be something bigger. She wouldn’t say anything- she couldn’t afford to lose this job- but she knew.

Maybe that’s why Bruce never seemed to fully distrust her, not like the others. All his other “villains” inspired a rage in him that she never seemed to.

Of course, that might also have to do with the fact that she got Harvey Dent transferred away from him after the last incident. She knew Dick had seen the bruises and would ask questions, so she told Crane that Dent needed to not be allowed to monitor patients alone. After what he almost did to Selena Kyle, she was surprised they hadn’t fired him. But Napier was in charge of who was hired and fired, and he seemed to have no morals whatsoever.

Whatever. It wasn't her problem- she couldn’t save everyone.

She could, however, keep an eye on Bruce. He seemed so nice, and sweet, when he wasn't being the Batman. And he was observant, no matter what anyone else said.

“Poison Ivy.” She glanced over at him. Today was mostly a free day, and so he was wandering the halls.

“Bruce.” She inclined her head towards him, smiling slightly.

“The Scarecrow needs you.” Bruce said slowly, staring at her. She sighed.

“Does he now?” She knew Scarecrow was Jonathan Crane, and wondering where this could possibly be going.

“He needs….assistance.” Bruce stared blankly behind her before shaking his head. “From the Joker.”

Pamela knew as well as anyone that when Bruce got like this you were supposed to ignore him, not humor him. But it was Napier that said that, and well…she never was good at taking orders from asshole men.

“Why does he need assistance from the Joker, Bruce?” She always felt bad talking to Bruce as if he were a child, but sometimes that’s what had to be done to understand.

“Not from the Joker.” Bruce shook his head violently. “The Scarecrow needs….” He stared blankly at her, as if attempting to come up with the words. More than once she had wished that she could just get through to him, understand what he was trying to explain. “The Joker has owned the Scarecrow.” It wasn't the first time Bruce had said that. She still didn’t understand what it meant, but she was beginning to think that it had an actually meaning. He repeated nearly as often as he said the Joker was evil and she was going to take over the world.

“What does the Scarecrow need, Bruce?” She asked softly.

“To be good.” Bruce was shaking now. “But we promised. We promised we’d be good but he has knives and he never stops.” He lunged forward suddenly, grasping at Pamela’s uniform. She saw Dorrance Bane move from the corner, in case Bruce became a problem, but she shook her head at him softly. “he never stops, Ivy. He never stops, no matter what.”

“Who?”

“The Joker.” Bruce hissed, backing up. His eyes were wild now. “I have to go.” He fled from the hallway, and Pamela ran a hand over her head, sighing.

It couldn’t hurt to go check on Crane, she supposed.

When she finally got to Crane’s office, Napier was exiting, a smirk on his face and his hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Ms. Isley.” He nodded at her, and she felt a shiver roll through her body. God that man was creepy.

“Dr. Napier.” She looked him up and down, before moving towards Crane’s door. Napier moved in her way.

“Do you need something?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. She frowned.

“I just wanted to talk to Dr. Crane.” She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if- and why- he was going to stop her.

Napier paused, before smiling widely- far too widely. “Alright.” He gestured to the door. “Be my guest.” He continued down the hall, whistling.

Pamela stepped into Crane’s office just in time to see him pull down his sleeves over what looked like medical bandages.

“Ms. Isley.” He bothered her so much less than Napier. “What can I do for you?” She glanced him up and down. His arms were tucked close to his body, his posture hunched, his clothing rumpled.

“Nothing, Dr. Crane.” She shook her head. “Just thought I’d stop by.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post this. More to come eventually. 
> 
> And yes, I am doing lots of varied points of view.


	3. So I Watch and I Wait and I Lay the Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald Cobblepot understood far more than anyone could ever realize.  
> That’s what happens when you watch. And that’s all he did. He sat and he watched and he catalogued what he saw.  
> And what he saw was fascinating. He studied everyone- what they did, why they did it. How they

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo so I picture Oswald Cobblepot the way he's portrayed in that TV show Gotham.  
> 

Oswald Cobblepot understood far more than anyone could ever realize.

That’s what happens when you watch. And that’s all he did. He sat and he watched and he catalogued what he saw.

And what he saw was fascinating. He studied everyone- what they did, why they did it. How they behaved. It gave him an understanding that no one else in the building had of their fellow inhabitants.

He understood, for example, that whatever she may claim, Pamela Isley cared far more about the patients of Arkham Asylum than most of the employees.

He understood that Nigma said and did things that made no sense, that he spoke in riddles and rhymes, so that no one would even think about fucking with him.

He understood, whatever anyone said, that what Harleen Quinzel felt for Jack Napier was not love, but a product of years of manipulation and subtle abuse.

He understood that Dent wasn’t just an asshole to be an asshole- he got off on the power, the control over others that he had.

He understood that Crane was far stronger than any of them realized- he had to be, to be able to go through what he did every day and still try and help the patients.

He understood that Bruce Wayne wasn't crazy.

And he understood that Jack Napier was.

But really, it wasn’t that surprising- or difficult- to understand.

He saw the comings and goings of Arkham Asylum. He saw what happened when the curtains closed- when all the good little boys and girls went home. No one ever noticed him. No one ever cared. And so he watched and waited and saw it all.

He saw what Napier did late at night when no one was around. He saw what Dent did behind closed doors when the other guards were on break. He saw, and saw, and saw.

He had no plans to tell anyone. He could- could overturn the entire system at a moment’s notice- but he was not without his own faults. He wouldn’t tell anyone because not telling was the best part. The knowing what no one else knew.

Why would he ruin that for himself?

He much preferred to simply watch, to observe the happenings without affecting them.

He wasn't really sure what his occupation was. He was on Arkham’s payroll, but he wasn’t sure that wasn’t just Napier asking him to keep his mouth shut.

He figured probably not. He doubted Napier even noticed his existence enough to realize just how much he knew, and if Napier ever did figure it out he probably would be worse off than Crane.

And poor Crane. Always so jumpy, so unsure of himself. He’d started out such a great doctor, with so much hope.

That was all gone now. He was a neurotic shell, a tap-dancing puppet who tried to pretend he didn’t have strings.

Which was fine, except that Napier was always around and Napier was always calling the shots.

Speaking of Napier, and what he was doing to people.

There was always poor Bruce Wayne.

He hadn’t been too bad off when his young ward had dropped him off. Not quite _sane_ , but definitely not as crazy as he was now.

Not everyone was equipped to handle the tests. Bruce definitely hadn’t been. The Batman was proof of that. A dangerous coping mechanism to process what had, and was continuing to happen to him. A way to hide from the truth while still trying to get help.

It was too bad his ward didn’t understand the cry.

Oh well. That was the thing: Oswald could never really _truly_ find it in him to care. He knew that he _should_ \- that caring was morally right and all- he just didn’t, not really. If he really did, he’d tell someone what was really going on- what Napier was.

But he didn’t. And everyone suffered around him because of it.

He was sure he wasn’t the only one who knew. Tetch had figured out at least some of it, and Pamela Isley suspected.

Crane knew.

Dent knew.

Harleen knew.

But Tetch had his own motives for keeping quiet. Pamela needed this job to stay afloat. Crane was far to broken to be saving anyone. Dent benefited more than not from it.

And Harleen.

Well.

She thought she loved Napier, didn’t she.

A sad thing, but still true. She thought what she was feeling was love.

Oswald might never have been in love, but even he knew better. Love wasn't what she was feeling. And maybe that was the most dangerous bit about Napier.

He was so good at what he does.

Which really, was the bit Oswald didn’t want to admit.

Napier was so good at what he does, even Oswald Cobblepot was afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are not always gonna be this frequent but I was on a roll.


	4. Crazy is as Crazy Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She loved Napier.  
> That was the honest to god truth.  
> She loved him with everything she had in her.

She loved Napier.

That was the honest to god truth.

She loved him with everything she had in her.

 _Love_.

Love like an all-consuming fire, the sort that raged uncontrollably without regard.

Love like the clean cuts of a scalpel down paper smooth skin.

Love like the high of drugs, the haze before the storm.

And Napier cared, in his own way. There were no soft touches and sweet nothings, but it was love nonetheless. The quiet consideration of him waiting for her, including her in his work.

She appreciated it. He could have just left her behind, used her as one of his experiments, but he said she was special. She _was_ special.

But she knew her place. She knew better than to talk back, knew better than to question his motives, his methods.

He was a genius, her puddin’. He knew best, always. Didn’t matter what else was happening. Her puddin’ knew best- he knew what was right for everyone.

Course, not everyone saw it that way. But it didn’t matter- the only one who would openly disagree was the little Batsy, Bruce Wayne, and he was a nutter, so no one would believe him anyway.

Everyone else knew better. Even if they didn’t agree with his methods, none of them would dare say anything bad about Napier. Her Mister J ran the whole damn hospital, and everyone knew it.

Didn’t matter what Isley said, neither. Harleen loved her, really she did, but Pamela Isley didn’t know what she was talking about in concerns to Napier. He’d never hurt her.

He loved her, in his own way.

Isley just couldn’t see it. She could only see what was _normal_ , and yeah, okay, their relationship _wasn’t_ normal, but it was theirs, and who wanted normal _anyway_.

Harleen sure didn’t, anyway.

Not since Napier.

Ever since she’d met him, she’d felt different. Weird. Almost float-y, like everything was a dream when he was around.

It was love.

What else could it be?

It must be love.

And love couldn’t be wrong, especially not with her puddin’. He was the only thing right in this whole damn ugly world.

And yeah, okay, sometimes they fought.

But usually she was asking for it.

And she _had_ asked for him to mark her up like he did his patients, so yeah, that was on her too.

She always asked for it.

She had a big mouth, and he liked that about her, even if sometimes it was distracting when he was working.

That was why he’d hit her that time.

She’d deserved it.

He was working, and she was trying to get him to pay attention to her instead. But his work was important, and he only ever had so much time to complete a project.

It hadn’t been the most important of his projects, but it was still a good one. They all were good ones. And now she knew not to be too annoying while he was working, at least not on the difficult parts.

It was fair.

After all, he didn’t have to include her.

Sometimes he didn’t mind her talking though, especially on his last project he’d been working on.

That one had been particularly exciting, too. It was the little Batsy, and he was Napier’s favorite project right now.

She could see why. He had produced truly fascinating results, and they only get better with every new treatment.

They’d fix him up real good, make him all sorts of new and improved.

Little Bruce Wayne. The billionaire who’d gone missing. A crazy little thing. Batsy. He was her favorite too- a fascinating example of a fallen prince. And his stories were so very fascinating. His methods of coping with what had happened to him- with his current recovery- were so very unlike anything she had ever seen. His delusions were perhaps the most well thought out and constructed she’d seen since med school.

He’d given everyone, including himself, alter egos. He’d made himself into some sort of hero- a dark knight. A far cry from his current position.

The Batman.

Everyone else got a nickname, too. She loved her own. Harley Quinn. She loved Isley’s, too. Poison Ivy. It was fitting, what with all the plants.

Sometimes she wondering if Napier liked Batsy’s nickname for him. Joker. It was cute.

Jack Napier, the Joker. Mister J. Her puddin’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about how this chapter came out, tbh. It's not my usual style or sound, but realistically I kind of thought it was fitting for Harley. Also, I totally picture her as she is in Suicide Squad, because holy shit I love Margot Robbie.  
> Also. No. Nope. No way will I be glorifying the whole JokerxHarley relationship. It's bad. It's abusive. And I will show it as such.


	5. I May Be Slow But I'll Talk Circles Around You All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a silent sort of understanding. Nygma was the smartest there.  
> He knew it.  
> Everyone else knew it.  
> But more importantly, Napier knew it.

It was a silent sort of understanding. Nygma was the smartest there.

He knew it.

Everyone else knew it.

But more importantly, Napier knew it.

He was slow. And weak. And he’d never be able to cut it, to make it in Napier’s cruel world. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to.

Because he was the smartest.

He could talk circles around all of them. He could outwit and outmatch them every time. And he left Napier alone.

He knew that was all that kept him alive. His…quiet compliance with Napier’s way of running things. The fact that he didn’t speak out.

He understood the technical merit of what Napier was doing. How it could be applied to science.  
He also understood that it wasn’t. Napier wasn’t a scientist at heart. Science was just a means to an end for him.

Harleen- now that girl was a scientist. She understood that these things held value, had great merit in certain communities. 

Too bad she was so crazy now. 

But that was sort of the story with everyone in this lovely institution. Arkham Asylum. Stick around long enough and whether you started like it or not you’ll end up crazy.

He’d seen it happen before. Poor little Crane, with such wide eyed hope for his patients. 

Now look at him. A disaster of a human being- one push away from crumbles into pieces. Napier kept him just on the brink- the perfect balancing point, a see saw rocking back and forth over the line of sanity. 

Same was true with the young Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Smart as a whip, and clever, too. And slowly but surely Napier was driving her crazy- that’s what the drugs would do to you. 

Make you pliable and easier to manipulate. And he told her stories of love, and she believed them, poor naïve little thing that she was.

Love was easier to believe than the truth. 

Because she didn’t want to believe the truth. It seeped under her skin and infected her thoughts, but she would reject it forever.

Not like poor Crane. Poor, sweet little Crane, who just wanted to help people, to make them better. He knew what was happening to him. But he was so very afraid, he’d never do anything about it. 

Everyone here knew, to some degree, what was happening. They all had various pieces of the puzzle. Only Napier could see the whole picture.

But Nygma knew who to ask what to get answers. He knew Oswald Cobblepot knew far more than anyone realized- he observed silently, and the things he picked up were always interesting.

Nygma knew Pamela Isley was starting to realize that maybe Bruce Wayne was onto something. Maybe there was some sense that could be found in his inane ramblings. 

He knew that Crane knew exactly what was happening to him and to everyone else, but was too scared to do anything about it.

“So, Bruce.” Nygma also knew that the only reason he was allowed to continue studying Bruce was that Napier didn’t think it would change his own experiments.

“Riddler.” Napier had tracked who everyone was. He knew Pamela Isley was trying to do the same, but he’d been doing it far longer than her. 

He’d mapped everyone out. He knew the names of the orderlies, the nurses, the doctors, and the patients. 

He rather appreciated his own name.

“How are you doing today, Bruce?” Nygma smiled at Bruce. You had to be patient with him, sometimes, or you wouldn’t get anything out of him, especially when he was viewing everyone as their alter selves.

“I won’t play your games, Riddler.”

“It’s not a hard question Bruce.” Nygma stood, walking over to the window in his office. Bruce was seated on his couch. Bane was outside the door, ready to head in at the slightest problem. 

“The Joker is getting stronger. None of us will be able to beat him.” Bruce watched him as he walked around.

“I know, Bruce.” Nygma turned back to face him. “But that’s not what I asked.” 

“It’s getting harder to fight him.” Bruce sounded tired, now, and Nygma couldn’t help but be fascinated by how Bruce’s brain worked, by how it constantly reworked what was happening around him.

“I can imagine.” Nygma raised an eyebrow. “But you will keep fighting him, right?”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long.


	6. Hurting You is the Highlight of My Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain. Pain and anger. Control.  
> All fingers on the same hand. His hand, hitting her across the face.  
> Harvey. Dent. Two-Face.  
> It was a fairly fitting name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I'm at university, and between that and my inability to get a handle on how I wanted Dent to be, I was struggling.

Pain. Pain and anger.

Control.

All fingers on the same hand. His hand, hitting her across the face.

_Her hand, hitting him when he did something wrong._

He twitched. Harvey was charming and capable. He was well liked. He had many casual friends. No real close ones, though.

It was hard to hide your true colors from people when they got close.

He twitched.

Pain. Anger. Control.

He hit her across the face again. She was a bitch, snarky and annoying, thinking she was better than him.

The crazy one- Wayne, the corporate hotshot, and how far had he fallen- he tried to stop him. Tried to control him.

But no. Harvey wasn’t here right now. And the only time Dent ever felt in control was when he could cause someone else pain.

And Selina was so pretty. Even prettier when she cried.

He twitched.

Napier knew about his…ticks. His habits. The things he did when Isley wasn’t around- she always was so judgmental, even if she never said anything.

Quinzel probably knew too, but she was too wrapped up in Napier’s games to care.

Wayne called him Two-Face. Two-Face.

Harvey. Dent.

It was a pretty accurate name. Harvey was well liked. He was friendly. He got dates. People trusted him- he put them at ease. He knew what to say.

Dent got slapped at his senior prom. Dent hospitalized a guy for looking at him wrong. Dent had to pay off a girl to stop her from filing a restraining order. Dent was the reason they had to work in this shithole instead of somewhere else- somewhere better.

Harvey Dent.

_He’d screamed himself hoarse, and now he found he couldn’t care. It was like that part of his brain had just…turned off._

He needed Dent. Dent allowed him to do things without feeling badly. Dent allowed him to not have to care about anything.

_She told him he was a monster._

He twitched.

_Both his parents were drinking again, which never boded well for him, but this time he couldn’t even be bothered to care._

He hit her across the face again. Wayne was gonna get between them again, he could tell. Just like he did last time. Only last time Dent had hurt him in turn- bruised him, pretty badly.

Wayne’s visitor had said something to Crane. Crane had said something to Napier. And Napier had warned Dent that his “habits” had better not get in the way of Napier’s own work.

They wouldn’t. Dent would keep to himself, go back to just hurting Selina.

Selina Kyle. She was pretty, and only a little crazy. She had retreated into herself after some sort of traumatic event, and so it wasn’t like she’d share anything he did.

He didn’t hate her. He didn’t have any feelings towards her at all. He just liked being in control, and she was easy to control.

He twitched.

He had to go out later this week. He’d told a couple guys from his other job- security- that he’d go drinking with them.

He had to get his rage out now.

He hit her in the stomach this time, and she fell over. He was in control- always in control. But he needed this, to release some of the anger, so he could continue to be in control.

He didn’t use to have control. As a kid, he lashed out without abandon. People didn’t like him. But he’d learned, and grown. He’d figured out how to become what people wanted him to be.

He wasn’t like Napier. Napier set people on edge- he couldn’t hide his own psychosis. It’s why Crane did all of the front of the house stuff- why Crane had to meet with the visitors. Napier made people uncomfortable, made their survival instincts kick in.

Dent wondered if Harvey is what was the difference. Napier couldn’t hide his true colors- he just masked them with makeup and a quiet voice. But Dent had two sides to him- Dent, and Harvey, and when one face was on no one could tell he had another one.

He wondered if maybe people could sense that Napier had killed people before.

He had known, immediately after meeting him. He’d known what sort of person Napier was. It was why he’d wanted to work here- he knew Napier would let him be Dent, without comment or judgment.

Realistically, Napier didn’t care enough to judge him.

Not like others.

He twitched.

Selina always cried. But she never begged. She never even spoke.

He liked her better for it. She was quiet and polite and knew that it didn’t matter what she said. He was going to do exactly what he wanted.

Dent always did what he wanted.

_She didn’t care what he wanted. She hated him, hated that he symbolized all of her mistakes. Hated that she was stuck raising him now._

He hit her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pieces fall into place. (Selina's chapter is next.)   
> I discovered that Harvey Dent had grown up in an abusive household in some versions of the comics, and my ideas sort of spiraled from there.

**Author's Note:**

> New story idea based off a post on tumblr. Idk if there'll be any romance (if you want some comment what you want?). I promise nothing is really as it seems in this story.


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